1. Best Comic Book You Have Read This Year 
2. Worst Comic Book You Have Read This Year 
3. Most “Meh” Comic Book You Have Read This Year  
4. Comic Book You Read This Year That You Didn’t Expect to Find Interesting But Did 
5. Comic Book You Read This Year That You Think Did Something New With The Medium 
6. Best and Worst Writer 2011 
7. Best and Worst Artist 2011 
8. Best and Worst Comics-Related Film 2011 
9. Which comics-related film did the Readers of the Lost Art vote as “So bad, it’s actually just bad?” 
10. Which comics character did we think had the worst costume ever? 
11. (For drinkers) Most Amusingly-Named Beer You Have Drunk This Year  
12. Question You Think I Should Have Included On This Quiz  
13. Quote of the Year (please write your favourite quote of the year below).

It may be from comics, it may be from the media, it may be from a member of the group… whatever, please share!

1. Best Comic Book You Have Read This Year 
2. Worst Comic Book You Have Read This Year 
3. Most “Meh” Comic Book You Have Read This Year 
4. Comic Book You Read This Year That You Didn’t Expect to Find Interesting  But Did 
5. Comic Book You Read This Year That You Think Did Something New With The Medium 
6. Best and Worst Writer 2010 
7. Best and Worst Artist 2010 
8. Best and Worst Film 2010 
9. Best and Worst TV Series 2010 
10. (For drinkers) Most Amusingly-Named Beer You Have Drunk This Year  
11. (For non-drinkers) Most Amusing Thing You Have Seen Whilst Watching Others Imbibe 
12. Question You Think I Should Have Included On This Quiz 
13. Quote of the Year (please write your favourite quote of the year below).

It may be from comics, it may be from the media, it may be from a member of the group… whatever, please share!

E is for Extinction 

Scarlet in Glory 

Imperial 

Sisterhood 

Astonishing X-Men 

and others we’ve no doubt forgotten… 

Questions

1. What’s the best X-Men comic you’ve read?
2. And the worst?[1] 
3. And the weirdest?
4. Any ideas on the following:�
   1. Best X-Man ever (other than Wolverine) Worst X-Man ever
   2. Worst X-Costume ever
5. Did Garth Ennis’s take on the X-Men in “The Boys” (the ‘G-Men’) have any valid points to make?
6. Did Grant Morrison and Joss Whedon really revitalise the series?
7. Did anyone see the TV cartoon adaptation, and what did they think?
8. Do TV cartoon adaptations ever persuade people to read comics?
9. Does anyone disagree with the following statement about the films: “X-Men 1 was quite good, X-Men 2 was the best, X-Men: Last Stand was best forgotten about, the less said about X-Men Origins: Wolverine the better, X-Men: First Class divides opinion”?[2]
10. “X-Men” has been going – in its various incarnations – for a long time now; what is it about them that appeals?
11. What’s the best X-Men graphic novel?
12. “God Loves, Man Kills” often takes this slot, but should it?

[2] Largely, it must be said, between Louise and Dave.

 (September 2011)

Some crime-themed comics we’ve read: 

• 100 Bullets
• Agatha Christie: Ordeal by Innocence
• Black Diamond Detective Agency
• Britten and Brülightly
• Criminal
• CSI
• Iron Wagon
• Johnny Double
• Kane: Greetings from New Eden
• Nobody
• OCI (Occult Crime Investigation)
• Sentences
• Seven Brothers
• Sherlock Holmes: A Study in Scarlet
• Top 10 book 1 
• From Hell (does this count…?)
• The Simping Detective (ditto) 

and others we’ve forgotten… 

Questions 

1. What’s the best crime-related comic you’ve read?
2. And the worst?
3. And the weirdest?
4. Can TV adaptations (comic adaptations of TV shows) ever be any good, or are they doomed to be low-quality cash-ins? 
5. Crime and the supernatural: we’ve read a few comics like this, but did we think they were any good?
6. Does the graphic novel / comic form add anything to crime stories that novels, film and TV do not already have?

Promethea

Reviewer

: Alex

What would be the first thing you thought of if someone said “Alan Moore” to you?

A massive beard? Okay, fair enough. Well what would be the first thing you thought of if someone said “the works of Alan Moore” to you?

Perhaps you’d think of Watchmen, with its medium-defining deconstruction of superhero comics; or maybe the visceral and historically-detailed From Hell; or the Orwellian V For Vendetta and its grim political message; or the notorious boundary-pushing Lost Girls; or the myriad literary allusions of League of Extraordinary Gentlemen; or maybe even early breakthrough works like Halo Jones or his run on Swamp Thing.

Would it be Promethea? Honestly? I doubt it. It rarely seems be the first thing that comes to mind when people think of Alan Moore. Of course, it’s by no means a lost classic, it is reasonably well known, but it does seem to lack some of the recognition and veneration accorded to some of Moore’s other works – which is a little strange, as it is arguably the most substantial, most adventurous, most personal, most enlightening, most fun piece of comics literature that Moore has written.

Right from the outset, Moore throws the kitchen sink at Promethea. It starts in a joyous mix of storylines, set in an alternate futuristic world of that allows Moore to play around with all manner of superhero and sci-fi concepts (plus nominally link Promethea into the universe shared with the other comics in Moore’s ‘America’s Best Comics’ line, like Tom Strong). There are Fantastic Four-esque ‘science heroes’, a schizophrenic mayor who gets beset by demon gangsters, a Joker-esque psychopath villain, scurrilous gossip news-bites about the latest lame bands and all kinds of other wacky stuff. And then it gets weird.

Sophie Bangs is a high school student who’s researching ‘Promethea’, a mythical female heroic character associated with imagination that has recurred throughout history. Sophie finds that the character is real – the Promethea idea can take physical form when someone uses their imagination to create her (writers writing or artists drawing), and that person becomes Promethea, or at least one incarnation of her that matches their character. As Sophie tracks the several historical instances where this has occurred, she finds that she too can summon/embody Promethea and converse with previous Prometheas in the ‘Immateria’, the realm of imagination.

It is a complex set-up to be sure, but it flows quite naturally and Sophie is drawn into an oddball fantasy/sci-fi superhero story, turning into Promethea to battle supernatural opponents. However, Sophie also begins to learn more about magic and the Hermetic Kabbalah, as taught by her seedy mentor ‘Jack Faust’, a grotty but broadly well-meaning magician. This, combined with the death of Barbara Shelley, the previous incarnation of Promethea, prompts a major shift in the story. Sophie leaves her friend Stacia and the spirit of Grace Branagh (another previous Promethea) in charge of continuing the Promethea duties protecting the material Earth, and sets out on a metaphysical journey of discovery up the Kabbalistic ‘Tree of Life’ with Barbara.

Now, it is inarguable that there is a massive educational intention here. We, the reader, learn as Sophie learns, and she learns a lot. However, this is an essential part of what makes Promethea such a delight. To present such a quantity of obtuse information in a way that is so engaging and so consistently inventive is a mammoth achievement, and one which promotes feelings of both enlightenment and admiration as you are taken through this short course in magic, mysticism and the nature of the universe according to Mr Moore.

Whilst this achievement is certainly attributable to Moore’s ideas and scripting, it’s equally, and at some points perhaps even more, attributable to the art team headed by J.H. Williams (pencils, plus some fully-painted bits), with Mick Gray (inks), Jeremy Cox (colours), Todd Klein (letters), with a few guests at various points. Throughout all five books (collecting the original thirty-two issues), the art is stylish and inventive and matches the writing perfectly, even when the writing goes into realms hitherto untouched by comics.

To begin with, the art, like the story, is mostly presented in a relatively standard cinematic American superhero comic style, but done very well, with loads of details to evoke the rich, frenetic futuristic metropolis setting. However, the more the story transmutes into a metaphysical discourse, the more extraordinary the art becomes. The switch starts in earnest in the last chapter of the second book (reprinting issue #12 in the original comics), where the whole issue is dedicated to a trip through the Major Arcana of the Tarot deck, running several semi-disparate visual/narrative elements simultaneously across each page. It is bewildering and fascinating, a perfect introduction to what is to come.

In books three and four (issues #13 to #23), Sophie/Promethea and Barbara go on their journey from the material world all the way up the Tree of Life and each issue is used to represent one of the ‘sephira’, the spheres of consciousness on the Tree. The heroines progress through mind-blowing and sometimes challenging semi-abstract situations, occasionally encountering renowned hermetic magicians like Aleister Crowley along the way. Gradually they come to a better understanding of themselves and the nature of life.

Does this sound a bit odd? Yet somehow this didactic journey through a mystic map of existence actually works, thanks to exceptional writing and what must surely rank as one of the most accomplished art jobs in comics history. Consistently inventive page layouts complement an extraordinary range of illustrative styles that give each of the sephira a totally individual tone that represents the concepts and emotions associated with that location. The cherry on the cake is that throughout the series, many of the original issues’ cover images pay witty homage to other styles and artists. Truly, the visual inventiveness in Promethea makes each new direction a surprise and a delight.

After the incredible Tree of Life sequence, Sophie returns to the material world, there’s a showdown of sorts, a brief calm before the storm, then finally the story powers on towards an astounding ‘end of the world’ climax that wraps up all the hanging narrative threads.

The story itself finishes in the penultimate chapter of book five (issue #31), and the final chapter/issue is given over to a strange experimental summation. This consists of essentially standalone pages, each featuring Promethea discussing one of the Kabbalistic elements with a trippy coloured background. The hook is that if you remove all of the pages and assemble them in the correct formation, you create a double-sided poster, and the seemingly abstract swirling coloured backgrounds reveal themselves to actually be two large portraits of Promethea (one on each side of the ‘poster’).

[Before anyone eagerly reaches for the scissors, it’s worth noting that if you’re reading it as part of book five rather than the original issue #32, you don’t have to chop up your book, the poster images are included afterwards!]

It is perhaps a small criticism of the series that if you’ve read right the way through, this final piece is too jarringly non-narrative (and frankly, a little hard to read) to appreciate immediately, but returning to it later, it is a fine recap and an admirable experiment. The page-rearranging gimmick provides quite a nice metaphor for what Promethea is all about: coming to an understanding that there are different ways of interpreting life and seeing the big picture based on fitting things together in a certain way.

Obviously, the main quibble that some people might expect to have with Promethea is that they think they could not possibly ‘believe’ the world-view that it presents. However, that would rather miss the point – you don’t need to accept it as ‘truth’, the whole essence of the story is the inclusivity of it, the fact that it is a celebration of imagination, of stories, of how everything stems from the mind of humanity. It is inclusive of all religions, all ideas, it’s a breathtaking attempt to show a cosmological schema that is conceivable to our human minds. In some sense, we do create the perceived universe ourselves, inside the collective human consciousness, and Promethea just tries to show us an organised representation of that perceived universe. It’s all so joyous and positive and shifts so smoothly between the profound and the daft, that it’s easy to accept the concepts being portrayed and enjoy the ride, regardless of whether you want to try and ascribe any ‘objective’ truth to it. Imagination has its own truth.

Promethea’s balance between flashy action, endearing wit, metaphysical profundity, and formal experimentalism is absolutely spot-on, and it creates something which is equally deeply meaningful and brilliantly fun.  If you allow yourself to be taken on the journey, you will have a comic-reading experience like no other. Promethea will probably never get the recognition it deserves (unless some idiot tries, inevitably disastrously, to make a film version), but those who have read and appreciated it will recognise that it is a unique and exceptional comic, and as representative of Alan Moore as the massive beard.

• Writer: Warren Ellis.
• Artist: John Cassady
• Reviewer: Aaron.

 With DC’s recent announcement that they are wrapping up and closing down the Wildstorm imprint of books it is fitting that we have been looking at one of that imprint’s finest works. Begun in 1998 at the time when Warren Ellis was helping to redefine the Wildstorm universe, having wrapped up his run on “Stormwatch” and launching “The Authority” to widespread acclaim. “Planetary” represented something different again. 

Instead of the usual superhero collective, bound together to fight for truth, justice and the status quo, the Planetary team are charged with excavating the secret history of their world and responding to reports of the weird and wonderful like a turn-of-the-century Fortean endeavour. This device allows Warren Ellis to explore any number of genres at will, and to comment upon fiction and our relationships with it. 

We are quickly introduced to our guides through the weird and wonderful universe the author has created. First up is curmudgeonly Elijah Snow, a  century old man with the gift of manipulating the cold and with massive gaps in his memory; Jakita Wagner, a woman with a low threshold for boredom, super-strength, speed and durability; and The Drummer, who can detect and read just about any form of energy. 

As we follow them through the first six issues we are shown a collective of early 20^th century adventurers, amongst them versions of The Shadow, Fu Manchu, Tarzan and Doc Savage, an island in the no-man’s-land between Japan and Russia populated by monsters, a Hong Kong cop/ghost story and more. Each of these stories throws the reader into a particular genre from comics, literature or cinema, and demonstrates Ellis’ understanding and affection for each of them while placing them firmly into the Wildstorm universe. 

All of these stories are fun and well executed but it is only with issue four that Ellis begins to present us with the real plot of the series, namely uncovering the secret history of Elijah Snow and of the secret chiefs of the world, a shadowy conspiracy known as the Four. This provides the main impetus for the remainder of the series but in this first volume we are only given the most meagre of hints as to what this might entail. 

John Cassaday is a well-known figure in the comics industry and that is primarily due to his work on “Planetary” (sure, his “Astonishing X-Men” run didn’t hurt either, but that came later). The genre-straddling nature of the series gives Cassaday the opportunity to illustrate anything from a pitched gun battle to a superhero punch-up and he takes on the challenge with aplomb, proving his range and marking him out as a fan favourite artist. What amazes most is how fully formed he is as an artist even at this early juncture, and that, in my opinion, he wouldn’t do his best work until volume 3 of this series. 

“Planetary” hasn’t made as big a splash as many other works by the author from the same time period, and this is for a number of reasons. Firstly, the simple fact that this is not an easy comic to classify, not falling into any of the basic classifications existing in the industry. Another factor is the massive delay on the final issue, arriving as it did several years after its predecessor. 

As a result of this many people will not be familiar with the work as a whole, but I suspect in the years to come as more people are able to either finish the series or encounter the entire run for the first time, “Planetary” will be remembered fondly as one of Warren Ellis’ finest works, brought to life by the stunning work of John Cassaday at the very top of his game. And if you don’t believe me, you presumptuous little apes, then believe Mr Alan Moore, whose introduction graces this very volume. Enjoy.

Reviewer: Louise

Note: I assume throughout this review that you’ve either read the books, or don’t mind being spoiled for them. 

Scott Pilgrim is the eponymous star of a set of six books, all of which are reviewed below. He’s also the star of the recent movie based on the books, “Scott Pilgrim vs. The World”, which I’ll get round to reviewing once I’ve seen it. First, a little backstory… 

The first encounter many members of the Readers of the Lost Art had with Scott Pilgrim was the short story featuring him and his friends for Free Comic Book Day a few years ago (probably 2007). I remember little of it except that I was confused about who the characters were, and that it featured Scott puzzling about a girl he knew who’d become an actress after he saw a poster for a film called “The Girl Who Kicked Me”. Most of us were left resoundingly unimpressed by Scott, thanks to this story, and thought no more about it until the film appeared. Suddenly, posters started appearing in the Odeon bearing the legend “Get the Hot Girl. Defeat Her Evil Exes. Hit Love Where It Hurts”. And we were like “Whuh? They turned it into a movie? Back up a little here…” 

Looking back, I rather feel that Scott and his companions (because “Scott Pilgrim” is very much an ensemble book) were sold a bit short by Free Comic Book Day. I suspect the story used for that event is one that would make far more sense to regular readers, or at least people who’ve read book 1, “Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life”, since Scott’s world isn’t quite like ours. Read on to find out how…

Scott Pilgrim 1: “Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life”

In which we meet 23-year-old slacker Scott, his sarcastic friends, his cool (and sarcastic) gay roommate Wallace, his slightly stalker-ish 17-year-old soon-to-be-ex-girlfriend Knives Chau, his cool new girlfriend Ramona Flowers, and learn of the Seven Evil Ex-Boyfriends*, including #1, Matthew Patel.  

That more or less sums up the plot, so here’s with the review. Vol. 1 feels fairly slow-paced, yet it’s an interesting little book, inasmuch as it reads pretty much like a straight-played comic about a group of slacker friends in Toronto. We learn that Scott shares a grotty flat with Wallace (and bed, though they’re not both gay – they just only have one bed), doesn’t have a job, plays bass guitar badly with his kind-of-crappy band Sex Bob-omb, and is sort-of dating a 17-year-old schoolgirl with the interesting name of Knives Chau following a bad break-up a year ago. And then Scott meets Ramona Flowers, Amazon.ca deliverygirl extraordinaire, and things start to get interesting. 

I’ve read reviews of Scott Pilgrim which comment that the final sequence of the book, where Scott fights Ramona’s Evil Ex-Boyfriend #1, Matthew Patel, in a video-game style aerial battle, is too much of a change from the more naturalistic style of the first two-thirds of the book. Certainly, much of it does read like a straightforward Friends-style tale of the lives of a bunch of twentysomethings, although there’s a fairly hefty clue to the fact that this isn’t set in the real world when Ramona explains that she can deliver so fast by slipping through “subspace tunnels”, and that she and Scott keep dreaming about each other because one of those tunnels passes through Scott’s head. Perhaps the problem is that if you were looking for a story being told in a completely straight way, this isn’t it, but the first two-thirds of the book might lead you to think it is if you don’t read closely. 

I suppose it depends a lot upon whether you enjoy Scott and Matthew’s battle. Personally, after a large chunk of the book in which Scott wanders about being indecisive (albeit in a very funny way) and mucking his young girlfriend around, I found it was about the right point for Scott to actually do something decisive and yell “Guys, get off the stage!” to his bandmates, as Matthew bursts through the roof shouting “Consider our fight begun!”. The clash between the conventions of heroic quests / videogames and the real world is really funny, as Matthew goes from yelling “It is I, Matthew Patel!” to muttering “Didn’t you get my email explaining the situation?”. 

In some ways, it’s actually rather a shame that [SPOILER] Matthew Patel got vapourised so early in the series, as his ability to wear lots of eyeliner and summon demon fireball-wielding hipster chicks to fight his battles was pretty funny. It also sets up the rest of the series nicely. Scott defeats Matthew with the aid of all of his friends, Ramona explains that he’ll need to defeat her remaining six evil ex-boyfriends (“You dated seven evil dudes?” “Not all at once!”), and we get the impression that Scott is going to really need his friends to help him survive the challenges ahead. Buckle up – the ride’s beginning!

 * As they are referred to in the books, and as the series creator prefers them to be referred to. Yes, I know. You’ve seen the movie poster. I’ll deal with this in my review of Vol. 4.

Vol. 2: “Scott Pilgrim Vs. The World”

In which Scott’s ex-girlfriend and current girlfriend battle it out in Toronto’s Public Library, we learn more about Scott’s friends and bandmates, and Scott gets thrown into a building by Evil Ex-Boyfriend #2, Lucas Lee.

 Scott has defeated Ramona’s Evil Ex #1, and is now hanging around waiting for Evil Ex #2, ex-skateboarder and “sell-out” film star Lucas Lee to put in an appearance, so they can fight. We also learn a bit more about Scott and his pals’ histories, and about Scott’s very own Evil Ex, Envy Adams. 

For those who were wondering, it’s pretty clear throughout this book that Scott and his pals aren’t stuck in a videogame being controlled by someone else. It’s just that in their world, the conventions of videogames apply; so Ramona can run through subspace tunnels, Knives Chau can battle with a pair of sais and run up walls, and when Scott defeats Evil Ex-Boyfriend #2, Lucas Lee, Lee turns into a pile of coins and a Special Object (a Mithril Skateboard, which Scott can’t use since he failed to pick up a Skateboarding Proficiency earlier on in life). 

We also learn here that, happily, the series will not just be about Scott fighting Ramona’s ex-boyfriends over her whilst she hangs around in the background like a swooning maiden. Ramona’s a pretty nifty fighter herself, which comes in handy since Knives Chau has turned from heartbroken schoolgirl into love-crazed stalker. It  becomes clear that, whilst Scott may be the protagonist of the series, he’s also something of a… well, I think the word “douche” is flitting across my mind here. His treatment of Knives in the first book was pretty self-centred and unintentionally cruel. As Wallace comments, playing his role as the Gay Best Friend and Voice of Wisdom to perfection, perhaps Scott and Ramona are a perfect match for each other, given that a woman with seven demonically angry ex-boyfriends maybe didn’t treat some of them too well, either.

 Scott and Lucas’s final battle is a bit of an anti-climax; but this book is really more about the history of the characters, and O’Malley has a knack for creating an interesting set of people. Oh, and there’s a really good recipe for vegan shepherd’s pie, as well.

Vol. 3: “Scott Pilgrim and the Infinite Sadness”

In which Scott’s very own Evil Ex, Envy Adams, appears, Envy and Ramona slug it out in a battle royale featuring high-kicks and giant mallets being swung at people’s heads, and Scott faces off against Evil Ex #3, Todd Ingram, in a Bass Battle. (Which Scott is destined to lose, since Todd Ingram can actually play bass.)  

In which Wallace, Stephen Stills and Julie Powers are still very cool and very awesome, and it’s about time for Envy to appear, since she’s been built up throughout books 1 & 2 as a major figure in Scott’s life (a mere phone conversation with her leads to Wallace finding Scott curled in the foetal position on the apartment floor), and book 2 ends with the revelation that Envy is in a band with Ramona’s Evil Ex #3, Todd Ingram, and they’re dating. 

Book #3 is very much the story of Scott and Envy’s break-up, told in flashbacks throughout the book. Unfortunately, I found it sometimes a little hard to keep track of which is the current timeline and which is the flashback, although it did help when I realised that the pages with black borders were the flashbacks. Some slightly better signposting would have helped. 

Though the lightness of “Scott Pilgrim” is very much what makes it fun, it wouldn’t work if the characters were cardboard cut-outs, and Scott and Envy’s breakup is a familiar tale well told; two people dating in college who grew apart. Although Envy acts pretty evil, she’s characterised well enough that whilst we cheer for Ramona in their fight (where Ramona whips her giant hammer out of her purse for the first time – no, that’s not a euphemism!), we still care for Envy when the ending leaves her [SPOILER] minus both her boyfriend and her band. 

The same cannot be said of Todd Ingram. Not the characterisation I hasten to add, as that’s done very well. Todd is excellently characterised as the first of the Evil Exes we really don’t like; a self-centred, narcissistic, vegan rock star who we’re just cheering for Scott to take out as fast as possible. You’ve got to love a book where the bad guy’s downfall comes from gelato. Speaking of bad guys, someone very important puts in an cameo towards the end of the book… read carefully!

Writer & Artist: Brian K. Vaughan and Tony Harris

Reviewer: Aaron 

Ex Machina doesn’t look or feel quite like any other comic out there. Sure, there are a number of comics that combine the superhero genre with realpolitik, some that look at superheroes in the ‘real’ (i.e. our) world and there are some that have looked at the fallout from 9/11, but none have gone as far as Ex Machina in combining all of these elements in as grounded and intelligent a manner. 

Ex Machina is the story of Mitchell Hundred, the Mayor of New York after Rudolph Giuliani, a man swept into power on the back of his former days as a super-powered vigilante, ‘The Great Machine’. His particular power is the ability to hear, communicate with, and control any and all complex electronic devices. On September 11^th 2001 he used this power to prevent one of the hijacked planes from crashing into the second World Trade Centre Tower. He was too late to stop the first plane, a fact that haunts Hundred, and the entire series, from the outset. 

The first issue starts with a definition of ‘deus ex machina’ and an image of a costumed individual flying towards a plane. The next page reveals that this is a photograph of ‘The Great Machine’ on 9/11, an image that Mitchell Hundred describes himself as being ‘sick of’. The set-up of the series is then revealed when Hundred describes what follows as ‘ the story of my four years in office, from the beginning of 2002 through godforsaken 2005’. 

From here on in we skip between several distinct time frames, a device used repeatedly through the series, travelling between Hundred’s childhood in the 1970’s, the origin of his powers in 1999, his period as ‘The Great Machine’ in 2000-2001 and the start of his tenure as Mayor of New York City. Along the way we are introduced to many of the main characters in the series, including Bradbury (Hundred’s friend and bodyguard), Kremlin (the man behind The Great Machine’s costume and weaponry), Martha Hundred (Hundred’s mother), Deputy Mayor Wylie, Journal Moore (a young aide in Hundred’s office), Police Commissioner Angotti and Suzanne Padilla (his Chief of Staff) amongst others. 

We see the key moments in Hundred’s relationships with these characters as he, and they, are forced to deal with a number of different events, from the relatively banal (a young artist’s attempt to be edgy by creating a controversial image of Abraham Lincolm using public funds, debates over a smoking ban) to the worrying (a killer targeting city employees, an assassination attempt) to the type of thing many would consider typical comic fare (the violent origin of Mitchell Hundred’s powers and his decision to use them). In each case Vaughan is able to keep the narrative focused, revealing important information about the characters and the world they inhabit through dialogue exchanges that though wordy are never verbose nor overwhelming to the reader. 

The author also reveals a deep and impressive knowledge of New York political lore as well as a grasp of the minutiae of the day-to-day running of a city the size of New York. Arguments between the characters are often the highlight of a chapter as the author dissects a topic that could have been ripped directly from the paper he read the morning he sat down to write, providing different points of view (few subjects are portrayed as only one character sees them) and the differing problems presented to politicians, trying to keeps all the gears working whilst not alienating vast sections of the electorate.

Using conversation as the main means of imparting this information also plays to the strengths of penciller Tony Harris, whose style of using photo reference can look awkward when dealing with a lot of action but which works brilliantly in bringing out the facial expressions of characters when conversing (or for that matter arguing, screaming or swearing at each other). Underscored by the brilliant colouring job and inks, the art style beautifully underscores the understated, realistic style of Vaughan’s writing. 

That’s not to say that ‘The First Hundred Days’ is the perfect introduction to the series. For the first couple of issues the author’s juggling of different timeframes can be slightly disorientating, though they do become clearer as the series progresses and each timeframe’s events influence or follow on from one another. The introduction of so many characters and events can also leave audiences feeling a little out of their depth initially, but it all adds to the richness of the series as it progresses. 

Ex Machina was one the most interesting series being put out over the last few years, and along with other titles such as ‘Y The Last Man; and ‘Pride of Baghdad’ has launched Brian K Vaughan firmly into the A-List of comic book writers working today. In Ex Machina Tony Harris found the perfect match for his unique looking pencils as well as to the many ideas he contributed towards the final form of the series, a collaborative match he will be hard pressed to find again. Whether you’re a political animal, a superhero fan or just someone who enjoys a tightly written story, this one is most definitely worth your time. 

Paperback: 136 pages

Publisher: Wildstorm (26 Jun 2007)

ISBN-10: 1401206123

Writer:             John Layman                        

Artist:              Rob Guillory

Reviewer:       Louise 

Tony Chu is no ordinary detective.

Tony Chu is a cibopath, one of only three in the world. Whatever he chews, he gains a psychic impression of; how it was grown, how it lived… and how it died. The only exception to this is beetroot. 

Tony Chu works as a homicide detective.

And if you’ve read comics even slightly, you can see how this works out for him. 

“Chew” is that rare beast, a comic with a genuinely new idea. Tony’s experiences learning to live with his powers / curse form the plot of volume one, “Taster’s Choice”*, in which he is recruited by one of the other two cibopaths, Mason Savoy, who becomes his mentor. Their powers alone would make for an interesting series, but there’s a lot more going on here. Since a massive outbreak of avian flu, poultry is an illegal substance, meaning that the police spend a lot of time tracking down dealers and users in “chicken speakeasies”. Tony’s powers are certainly useful here, but is there a cover-up going on, and will he live long enough to find out? 

The art is excellent. It’s a slightly cartoonish and exaggerated style – Mason is about four times the size of Tony – but that’s not a criticism; it works very well indeed for the plot, which is fascinating and doesn’t let up. Though this book should come with a warning; don’t read this if you’re very squeamish! 

Thankfully, the great art and skilled writing prevent it descending into Saw-type levels of horror, but there are one or two sequences that Chuck Palahniuk would have been proud to have written. Certainly it’s the only comic I’ve read containing the memorable line “I HAD TO EAT A DEAD DOG TO PROVE WHAT YOU DID!”. Strongly recommended. 

* The brand name for Nescafe Gold Blend in the States, if you were wondering. 

Paperback: 128 pages

Publisher: Image Comics (25 Nov 2009)

Language English

ISBN-10: 1607061597